I was currently facing what could easily be the worst crisis of my life.
“Oh, Arwen,” my mother said, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “How long are you going to stay in this smelly old place?”
Even as she pulled me along, I couldn’t take my eyes off him, the slender, trembling little boy being dragged away by a man. His gray eyes were welling up as if he were ready to burst into tears at any moment. He stared right at me in distress.
Save me. Please.
He didn’t need to say it aloud for me to understand. Forcing myself to turn away from his tearful eyes, I looked at the grinning man next to him.
“The boy . . . What’s his name?”
“Shu, my lady.”
Oh. I stifled a gasp. My mother jabbed my side, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Still, I hardly felt it.
“Yes, the young lord of Severilous has a similar name, and I suppose their hair looks about the same, but . . . I’m sure it’s a huge honor for a little peasant boy like him.”
How could he laugh and not notice the truth in what he’d just said?
I pressed my finger against my throbbing temple as the man kept trying to ingratiate himself with me. This could be him. No, I knew it was him. The light, lemon-blond hair curling in gentle waves, the puppy-dog eyes, the gray irises shimmering with just a tinge of pink. The boy in front of me fit the description I’d read so perfectly that it was baffling.
Somehow, I ended up meeting the young, abused male protagonist.
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